It's All in How You Mix the Two
by Zenelly
Summary: Zexion wanted Demyx once. Once, when the blond sitarist finally woke up and smiled at their white world for the first time, when he laughed and played music and sang. OneSided Zemyx. For the prompt "What if". Sequel to Feel the Warmth You Cannot Miss.


**Disclaimer: **KH isn't mine.

**Author's Notes: **Woo, more fic for everyone! June is bound to be a busy month for this, so keep an eye out! Hopefully I'll pull TTB out of the depths it is in right now!

**Dedications: **To **Evil-Pixie-Dust**. She is lovely, as always

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><p><strong>And It's All in How You Mix the Two<br>**

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><p>The soft echo of Zexion's footsteps twine with the ever-present glow of Kingdom Hearts as Zexion traverses the countless hallways of the Castle that Never Was to his room. With a soft sigh, and a readjustment of the book beneath the crook of his elbow, he opens his door, the ambient light more than enough to see by in the small room. Zexion places the book by his bedside with careful hands, but no more. It has been a long day. Zexion lies down on his (uncomfortable, cold, lonely) bed and curls on one side, arm shoved under the pillow as though it could serve to make sleeping there any more bearable. He stills his body.<p>

But his mind does not quiet itself.

His mind whirls and turns, skipping like endless airborne eddies across the thought patterns and events of the day. Zexion raises one hand to level with his eyes, staring at the leather-bound digits. Demyx touched his hand today. (Part of him feels like this makes them closer, and the rest of him hates it for being the closest he's ever been when even _Axel_ can get closer than Zexion.)

How sad that he remembers that strongest, that that brief moment is the shining beacon of his day. He closes his eyes.

Zexion wanted Demyx once. Once, when the blond sitarist finally woke up and smiled at their white world for the first time, when he laughed and played music and sang and was like a bird in a cage, trilling and unaware of the dangers and wonders beyond the silver bars. Zexion has wanted to take Demyx, throw him down, mark him, keep him forever, but he knows that he can't.

He considers it anyway.

It is hard not to at least take the action under consideration, if he is to be honest. If given the opportunity, Zexion will be kind to him (as kind as one Nobody can be to another), and he cannot stop thinking about it i_all the time./i_ Even when he knows that thinking about Demyx is detrimental to his work and productivity, he cannot istop himself/i because it is a ineed/i in the underpinnings of his soul.

_Tap._

_Tap tap._

Zexion opens his eyes.

Rain is falling on the windowpane, sliding down in spots and rivulets and creases on the otherwise clear glass. But there is something…. There.

A single black-clad finger.

_Tap._

With a sigh, Zexion stands and strides to the window, ready to throw it open and banish the intruder without a second thought, but he opens it, opens his mouth as he does, and – stops. Eyes wide, earth dropping out from under his feet, Zexion_ stares_. Incredulous. Impossible.

Demyx.

Demyx, there, under his window, hand raised in supplication, teal eyes wide and looking at him. Straight at Zexion. The blond swallows (Zexion watches the bob of his Adam's apple with a hunger that isn't natural), opens his mouth. Stutters out, "H-hey. Hey there."

'_Hello_,' Zexion thinks, stunned, '_Hello, I've wanted you before I knew I_ could _want anything, why don't you come inside where you won't get wet._'

"Hello," he says.

"I uh, I should've thought this through, I guess, but that's… Not really what I do best, right?" Demyx chuckles at himself and Zexion clenches his fists into the frame of the window to stop himself from moving at all. "I just…."

Zexion swallows as Demyx's pause lingers on and on. "You? What are you here for?"

"You," Demyx replies plainly, fingers twisted around each other. He shifts his shoulders unconsciously, and Zexion's eyes are drawn to his feet for the first time (and of course he would be standing on a waterspout, the over-dramatic fool).

"What do you mean?"

"You wanted me once! I'm just saying that now I…" Demyx laughs, spreads his arms wide. "I'm tired of not i_doing_/i anything about it! I want you too!"

The words echo hugely in the rain, and Zexion's heart—_pulse,_ his _pulse_, damn it—catches in his throat as he looks down at Demyx. Demyx, whose hair is soaked and plastered to his face, who has large, nervous eyes and who is standing with his arms open beneath his window, a fountain of water holding him in the air.

"What do you really want?" he demands, voice clear and hard (tremulous, so very tremulous underneath, cracked and begging). Demyx only grins widely, mouth and teeth a red and white slash in the skin of his face.

"I want you to love me!"

Fists tighten, leather creaking over stone. "Impossible, Number Nine. We don't have hearts to feel emotions. I can't love you."

"I want you to anyway! People are always telling us what we can and can't do and-"

Zexion scoffs, trying to turn the tide of the conversation. "You never listen to them anyway."

"Because I don't want to listen! And also because I'm a lazy fucker, but that's not the point. The point is that I love you, and I'm tired of denying it and worrying about it." Demyx wipes his face, manic grin softening to a real smile. (Zexion's _heart _beats in his chest, a helpless crescendo in time with the play of emotion in Demyx's eyes.) "And I want you to love me too."

In that single instant, Zexion has to give in, he _has_ to, because to do anything else is unthinkable. So he leans down those bare few inches, slides a proprietary hand behind Demyx's ears to hold him in place, and kisses him finally, how he has wanted to for _years_, forever, ever since that first moment.

And then Zexion wakes up.

The pain he feels in that instant is unimaginable, twisting within him impotently like barbs of crystals, and he muffles helpless, soundless, iwanting/i screams into his pillow. His entire body shudders and shakes as he cries, tears slipping down his face and into his mouth. It is never-ending. He will never be free of this obsession. There is nothing he can do.

There is nothing he wants to do, and that hurts most.

Zexion screams.

(Three floors above, Demyx blinks awake and presses a hand to his sternum, curious and wondering, but he shrugs it off, rolling over on his side and wondering sleepily if maybe tomorrow he can muster up the excuses he needs to speak with Zexion for longer than two terse sentences.)

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><p>MORE REQUEST FIC. Hahaha, trying to work on TTB chapter 4, for what it's worth?<p>

Reviews are appreciated!


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